Grande Valse Brillante
by CoryphaeusRex
Summary: Sucky title but it suits. Frederic decides to teach his young charges to dance, and the boys are having a bit of trouble. Jazz/Allegretto, March/Beat very mild and gentle slash but you have been warned.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes and Disclaimer:** I don't own Eternal Sonata nor its characters. But I like 'em, and because of this here's a little fic featuring everyone's favourite adventurers as they learn to dance and be civilised upstanding citizens (according to Frederic). March/Beat, Jazz/Allegretto. Mild slash, if you don't like, don't read, but it's not exactly hardcore.

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It had been the talk of the town for weeks. In defiance of the looming threat of Forte, Prince Crescendo (heavily persuaded by Princess Serenade) had announced that there was to be a grand concert in Baroque Castle. There was to be dancing until the sun set, and Frederic had been horrified to learn that none of the young people (children, really) that he'd taken under his wing had ever danced before. Well, that was only partially true. Polka could do a couple of country steps and Viola wasn't a stranger to dancing with shepherd boys, but none of them knew anything that would be acceptable in a royal court.

He had humbly asked Prince Crescendo, with lots of grovelling that would have been appropriate in his world but apparently was unneeded here, for a place in which to hold a dance lesson, and the prince had provided spectacularly. It wasn't a ballroom, although it could have been with a little redecorating, but the space was big enough for a few turns around the floor, and that was all Frederic could teach in a short space of time.

A lone pianist had been included in the offer, and though Frederic could have played the piano _much_ better himself, he was there to supervise the dancing, and would have to put up with the occasional overlong or inappropriately staccato note. There had been mutinous glares from Allegretto and Jazz when he'd announced his intention to teach them to dance, and Salsa had been vocal as usual in her disapproval. Viola and Polka had taken care of the men, but Frederic hadn't dared to try and make Salsa do anything she didn't want to. March had volunteered to be a partner for little Beat instead.

Similarly, he hadn't been able to stop Salsa from turning up, sitting on the edge of the stage, swinging her legs and calling distracting comments at the dancers whenever they did something wrong.

"Beat, your shoelace is untied!" Salsa called, and giggled as Beat looked down, missing the step and almost falling over his own feet.

"Salsa," Frederic said warningly, but he got such a look in return that he hurriedly turned back to the three pairs navigating the floor. "Polka, that's beautiful, very good. Viola, stop leading Jazz around the floor, he's the man, it's his job to lead."

"It isn't my fault he's got so many left feet," Viola smiled, as she sailed past, practically dragging Jazz along with her.

"It isn't my fault you're so controlling," Jazz retorted, slouching along after her. Glad of the excuse to move out of range of Salsa, Frederic mapped out their turns and caught them on their first pass, poking Jazz in the back with his baton.

"Jazz, your posture is atrocious! Stand up straight, shoulders back!"

"They don't _go_ back any further," Jazz grumbled. Frederic ignored him.

"Chest high, chin up, it isn't difficult, Jazz, if you can heft that sword around you can stand like a gentleman."

Jazz was whirled away by Viola, shoes squeaking on the marble floor. Frederic flinched.

"Just because _some_ of us use real weapons that weigh more than a few ounces," Jazz muttered under his breath.

"I'm not deaf, Jazz," Frederic said smoothly, correcting Allegretto's hold of Polka.

"So what's this dance called anyways?" Salsa chimed in from the stage. There was a regular thudding as her heels kicked against the hollow boards, slightly out of time.

Frederic's hand clenched on his baton, but he answered civilly. "It's called a... a valse," he said, at the last second remembering that it might not be prudent to mention the enemy Count's name in a time of crisis, and particularly not when the boys were doing so badly at the steps already. He didn't want to give them another reason to refuse.

"You know, I had an idea it was gonna be somethin' foreign like that," Salsa said, looking at him levelly.

There was a squeal from the dancefloor, and Frederic, glad of the distraction, whirled to face it. Polka was limping, still in the hold of a red-faced Allegretto, and it didn't take a genius to work out what had happened.

"Have a care, Allegretto," Frederic said. "Polka doesn't have big boots like you."

Allegretto, still blushing like a cherry, seemed at a loss for a couple of moments. Then, suddenly, he let go of Polka and stomped off across the room, leaving through one of the ornately-carved doors onto the terrace.

Helplessly, Frederic looked for someone to go after him. Salsa wouldn't make eye contact, Polka was removing her shoes to inspect the damage, and Beat... well, oddly enough, Beat hadn't even noticed. He and March had picked up the dance so easily, probably because they were enjoying each other's company so much the difficult steps could be worked through together.

"Jazz, go and get him back," Frederic said, extricating Jazz from Viola's grip. "Viola, you are going to have to follow my lead for a while."

With a noticeable sigh of relief, Jazz slouched across the room to the door Allegretto had last used.

"Now, Viola, you must allow yourself to be led, and not continually fight to lead, you understand?


	2. Chapter 2

Jazz found Allegretto at the very end of the balcony, out of sight of the ballroom's huge windows. He was kicking a marble pillar, which was getting very scuffed and dirty. Somebody would be along to clean it at some point, Jazz supposed.

"You're not getting out of dancing that easily," he said, for want of a better thing to say.

"Well I can't do it, so I'm not going to carry on breaking Polka's feet with my failure."

"All you need is someone whose feet aren't quite so delicate, and then you can practice not stepping on their toes. When you go back to Polka after that, you'll both be fine."

"Yes, but there isn't anybody else to practice on. Salsa won't dance, Viola's your partner and March is Beat's. And I can't dance on my own, I'll look like an idiot."

"You could dance with me," Jazz suggested.

Allegretto's mouth formed a little 'o' of surprise.

"I mean, with Viola dragging me round there I've learned enough of the girl's steps, and you're not going to break my feet, no matter how hard you step."

"But you're a man."

"It's only for practice, Allegretto. Nobody's going to see you dancing with me and messing it up, they'll see you dancing with Polka in the ballroom and just think you're naturally good at it. But, if you want to be a wallflower, that's your choice."

Jazz had just shifted his weight to turn around when Allegretto sighed. "All right then. Just don't tell Polka."

Jazz nodded, and after a swift check that none of the practice-room's windows faced the balcony, Allegretto reluctantly settled into the valse hold, his right hand resting on Jazz's waist as though ready to whip it away at a second's notice. He held out his left hand, flat, and felt Jazz's calloused fingers close around it, rather than resting delicately on the top of his palm as Polka's would have done.

"Okay, and _one_ two three," Jazz began, giving Allegretto a little nudge in the right direction but allowing the boy to take the lead.

The dance began awkwardly at first, with Allegretto nervy about being seen and uncomfortable about dancing with someone who, despite all they'd been through, was still a practical stranger to him. A lifetime on the streets had taught him to be distrustful and wary of anyone, particularly those with the kind of power he'd seen Jazz wield, and old habits were hard to break. It didn't help that Jazz was a little taller than him, and the intimacy of the valse hold was only emphasizing the fact.

Concentrating, he could hear the very faint piano playing inside, and gradually synchronised his steps in time with it. There were a few times his feet caught on the edge of Jazz's hobnailed boots, but since there was no flinching and no squealing, he was able to let it go.

He closed his eyes, and that seemed to work even better, because he wasn't constantly looking down at his feet nor looking nervously up at Jazz (oh, why was he dancing with _Jazz_ of all people?). He could concentrate on where he was putting his feet and not worry about how close he was to his partner's toes. Sometimes his boots butted against Jazz's, but nothing more debilitating occurred.

How far had they danced? The thought suddenly struck him, his eyes shot open and he missed a couple of beats' worth of steps as he reoriented himself. They were closer to the door, yes, still not in the line of sight though.

"I said I wouldn't tell Polka," Jazz said, "and I don't intend to show her, either. I wouldn't have let you go too close to the windows."

"Thanks," Allegretto smiled. "I think I'm getting the hang of it."

"You are doing very well. Do you want to go back in?"

"Just a few more steps," Allegretto said, and wasn't immediately sure why he had.

Several long minutes later, with no more shoe-bumps and no more panics, the steps slowed to a standstill, and the pair stopped, face to face at the end of the balcony.

"You'll have to go back in and learn how to dance like a man," Allegretto grinned, nervously.

"Oh, I don't think I'll be going to this concert tonight," Jazz said, loosening his grip on Allegretto's hand. "I'm not really the dancing type."

"What about Viola?"

"Oh, she'll find someone else to drag around the floor. Besides," he said, raising his left hand from Allegretto's shoulder to his face. "I'd rather dance with you any day."

"Retto!" the call came from behind them, and Allegretto let go of Jazz's hand as though he'd been burned. "Hey, Retto, Frederic taught me to dance real good, he says me and March are the best he's ever seen!"

"That's... that's great, Beat," Allegretto said, forcing a smile onto his face. "Is Polka okay?"

"Oh, yeah, she says she's ready to dance again. She's been waiting for you for ten minutes."

"Right, I'd better get back to her, then. Thanks for the help, Jazz," Allegretto said, not looking at his dance partner. He walked back into the practice room without a backward glance.

Jazz sighed.


	3. Chapter 3

The concert was going fabulously. Frederic had wowed everyone with his piano playing skills and the dancing of the rest of the group was going down well. Several young men had asked Viola to dance already, and Polka was happy and smiling as Allegretto led her round the floor. March and Beat hadn't taken their eyes off each other all evening.

"It's really sad that Jazz couldn't come," Polka was saying. "What an awful time to get a headache."

"Yeah, it's really terrible," Allegretto said, distractedly. "Hey, Polka, why don't you find someone else to dance with for a while, my legs are getting tired."

Polka looked disappointed for a moment, but brightened up straight away. "Okay, sure, as long as you come back and dance later."

"I will," Allegretto promised as he let go of her, but he wasn't so sure he ever wanted to do another turn round that floor again. It was just so _boring_ and constrained, with everyone watching you and this is how you had to stand and you had to look in a certain direction and make eye contact only with certain people. He'd done it for Polka's happiness and now he wanted some peace and quiet.

The corridors of the palace were mostly deserted, just the occasional servant looking at him in a funny way as he traipsed through the halls, still dressed in the ballroom finery he'd borrowed from a minor aristocrat. He reached the room that Jazz and Frederic were sharing and knocked on the door, pushing it open without waiting for a response.

Jazz was sitting on his bed, running a cloth over the brass pipes on his sword. He was humming to himself, quietly, and seemed not to have noticed Allegretto's arrival, until he spoke.

"Go and enjoy yourself, Allegretto. Polka doesn't want to be dancing on her own."

"There's about fifty boys in the queue to dance with her, she won't miss me for a second," Allegretto said, closing the door behind him and leaning on it. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I am," Jazz said. "I told you, I'm just not the dancing type."

"You danced with me this morning."

"An exception to my usual rule."

"Then why don't you make another exception for Viola?"

Jazz put the sword down with care, then stood up. "Why did you come, Allegretto? You could have stayed at the concert and enjoyed yourself with the others."

"I felt bad leaving you here on your own."

"I've survived on my own for a very long time, Allegretto. I'm not going to cry myself to sleep over one concert. You know that as well as I do. Why did you really come?"

"I don't know," Allegretto said. Jazz was close to him now, too close for him to open the door and go back to the dance.

"Don't you?" Jazz said, standing over him, as close as they had been whilst dancing the steps Frederic had brought from his world into theirs. He reached out, lifted Allegretto's chin so the boy's eyes met his.

Allegretto felt as though he was drowning. He reached out, forwards, quickly before he fell or succumbed or whatever was going to happen, and caught Jazz's elbow in a hand which seemed to have suddenly become all sweaty.

"I think," Jazz said, and Allegretto could feel his hot breath on his own lips. "I think you do."

Feeling like he was moving through quicksand, Allegretto leaned forwards, just a little, closing that last inch between them. His lips touched Jazz's, and his eyes slid closed automatically.

They stood like that for a moment, until Jazz drew away with a soft laugh.

"You see? You did know why you came."

Allegretto blushed. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it."

"It's okay," Jazz smiled gently at him, then put one hand to the back of Allegretto's neck and drew him in for another kiss. Allegretto's hands found their way to Jazz's back, pulling him closer until their bodies were flush against one another.

Breathless, joyous, and quite taken over by the feeling that the air had grown warmer around them and the light shining through the open window had taken on a more prismatic quality, it was a while before either of them was able to speak again.

"You know," Allegretto said, the colour rising in his face, "I sort of wish you'd come back to the ballroom and dance with me."

"I don't dance in ballrooms," Jazz said, but he was smiling as he did. "But we've got a few hours until Frederic comes back, and this room is big enough for a few turns. Shall we?"

He took Allegretto's hand, and bowed low whilst planting a kiss on the boy's knuckles.

"This time," Allegretto said, just as they were about to settle into the hold, "you lead me."


End file.
